Wherefore Art Thou?
by PandaInTheStars
Summary: Roofs are a marvelous place to think. Especially if you're a hard-bitten investigative reporter like Lois Lane.
1. Chapter 1

Lois Lane looked over the balustrade that separated the roof of the Daily Planet from oblivion. She had often wondered on her many trips up here, whether to think about her life or a story or just to smoke, exactly how far down the street was from her level. Sure, she could look at the building's architectural designs or just ask Perry, but it was one of those things you always thought you would do but never actually did anything about.

Absently, Lois reached down, picked up her purse, and sat it on the railing before fumbling through it blindly for her pack of cigarettes. She quickly found it and, in her haste, a single roll tumbled out and fell over the side of the balustrade, down, down, down.

Her hands stilled on her pack.

No, not tonight.

As the falling cigarette disappeared from her range of vision, she thought about the last time something had fallen from this very roof. Only a few days ago the tall, proud globe that symbolized the Daily Planet and all its glory had taken a tumble.

Before that, before her life had somehow turned itself into an emotional wrecking ball, it had been Lois Lane falling from this roof, followed swiftly by a helicopter.

Lois didn't like thinking about that night. Thinking about that night always led to _him_.

Him. Her friend. Her lover. The father of her child.

God, she could use a cigarette.

She wondered if _he _ever stopped. She wondered if _he _ever perched on the highest buttress of a building like some kind of holy gargoyle and thought about his life. Where _did _he go when he needed to think? Somehow she doubted he went to that cold, sterile place up north. Did he have anyone to talk to? Was there someone, somewhere, in whom he could confide himself? She doubted that as well. If such a person ever did exist, she had a strong feeling it had once been her.

'_Not anymore,'_ she thought, wryly.

The thought had occurred to her, seeing him lying vulnerable in a hospital bed, that he really _wasn't human. _The doctors had wavered schizophrenically between surrounding him and attempting to treat him and hiding in the darkest corners the hospital had to offer. No one knew what to do. Not even Lois Lane.

The world breathed a collective sigh of relief when he recovered on his own.

The point was that no one really knew him. Not even the self-proclaimed 'Superman experts' could say where he went when he wasn't performing a rescue. The self-proclaimed best reporter on the east coast couldn't say either.

Did he have a favorite food? How did he like his coffee? Had anyone even seen him eat? Did he sleep? And how old was he, exactly?

Did he even have a name?

Something twitched at the back of her mind. She thought about the small blip in her memory, right around the time General Zod had invaded Earth. Somewhere in that small space of time Jason had been conceived. And perhaps all her questions had been answered as well.

God, she needed a cigarette.

She remembered the night she had interviewed him. Well, 'interviewed' was a strong word. 'Fawned over him like a kid out of high school' was more like it. That article read more like a strip out of one of those magazines in grocery store lines than an actual piece of hard, investigative reporting.

And Lois Lane was nothing if not a damn good investigative reporter.

Wiping at her eyes (damn, the humidity up here was hell and _no_ she was _not_ crying), she hastily stuffed her pack back into her purse, turned on her heel , and stalked back to the elevator. She was going to pack up her stuff in the newsroom, go home, kiss her son, and spend a nice evening with her loving fiancé.

Candles. Roses. She was going to enjoy herself tonight.

And tomorrow, she was going to investigate that son-of-a-bitch that tore her heart apart like it was cotton candy.

They had a son. And damned if she wasn't going to get to know his father.

Lois smiled. Finally, she had a plan.

'_Look out Superman. I'm coming for you.'_


	2. Chapter 2

Clark Kent eased into his desk chair. Slowly. _Carefully. _The stab wound was less, well, stabbing, but it still ached and he found that if he knocked it into anything unintentionally pain would shoot straight up his back. Now would be an excellent time to swear.

"Shit," he said, softly. He looked around surreptitiously. No one had stopped working. No one dropped their lukewarm coffee because, my god, did mild-mannered, aw-shucks-golly-gee-whiz Kent actually swear?

Encouraged by the lack of reaction, Clark spoke a little louder.

"Shit."

He felt a lot better now.

He stared at his computer screen and tried to remember what he was supposed to be working on. Oh, yes. A filler piece on how the Metropolis fire department was handling the earthquake crisis and what the gas company was doing to repair the burst pipes. Good. He could use some mindless stuff to write about.

Especially when there was so much else to think of.

Unconsciously, Clark grinned a little. Really, there was nothing to grin about, but he couldn't help himself. He was a _father. _He had a _son. _For his entire life, Clark had been certain that he was alone. That he was the last. He had left for Krypton on the slim hope that someone, _anyone_, had survived. And, irony of ironies, what he was searching for was right here on Earth.

Jason was beautiful.

And he was impossibly out of Clark's reach.

Clark afforded himself a quick look at Richard White's office. The man was busy typing something on his computer. Squinting, Clark could see it was a piece on how Metropolis' temporarily paralyzed harbor was going to affect international shipping.

Jason was asleep on the couch.

Clark sighed. He would give up everything – every single superpower – to be sitting where Richard was, the father of that wonderful child. He dropped his head into his hands, painfully ignoring the twinge his back produced by the sudden movement.

_She _entered the newsroom.

He heard her heartbeat before he heard her footsteps. She pervaded every one of his senses so that he couldn't ignore her. And here it was – the other thing in Clark Kent's life that was impossibly beautiful and impossibly out of reach.

She sat down at her desk, only a few yards away. Her mouth was set. She was on to something – or someone had really pissed her off. She slapped her purse on her desk and started typing on her computer, occasionally clicking the mouse. God, she was beautiful.

He had to tell her. They had a son together. He _had _to tell her. He should just walk over there, swipe everything off her desk, tear off his glasses, and sweep her into his arms. Who cared what the rest of the goddamn world would think?

Then the omnipresent coward in Clark chimed in. Of course, he shouldn't tell her. She had a life, a fiancé, an idyllic house, and a sweet, cute, intelligent child. Who was he to take that away from her? Besides, the last time he told her everything had gone straight to hell. Or didn't he remember why he took her memories in the first place?

Besides, if he did tell her she would probably be so angry (nuclear reactors couldn't hold a candle to Lois Lane) that he would probably be forced to leave the Daily Planet, bury himself a shallow grave in Antarctica, and never see his son again.

No. This way he could see both of them, albeit intermittently, as Superman and still spend time with them as Clark Kent. Lois would live her perfect life with Richard and he… he would live his life.

Without Lois Lane.

"Shit."

"Clark? Are you alright?"

Clark looked up, startled. He winced at the sudden pain.

"Clark?"

Holding up his hand in a timid half-wave, Clark gave a sheepish smile. "Sure, Lois. I'm swell."

Satisfied – and probably embarrassed by her former partner's gratuitous use of the word 'swell' – she turned back to the computer, engrossed in whatever she was working on.

Clark turned back to his own screen and heaved another heavy sigh.

'_Swell? I'm about as far from swell as humanly – or inhumanly – possible.'_


End file.
